The Little Things
by Rebellious.Goody.Two-Shoes
Summary: A collection of moments it would be a shame to forget. Mostly AU and/or AH, but not always. Rated T for possible future chapters. Reviews welcome. DISCLAIMER: I don't own. FAX and nothing but.
1. I: Roommate

**I. Roommate**

**Status: Strangers**

Fang knocks against the faded green wood of his girlfriend's dorm room. Inside he can hear someone singing, loud and very off-key. Then the music shuts off, the sound of running water stops and the door is yanked open.

"Looking for Lissa?"

The girl behind the door wears a sympathetic smile the way others wear a necklace. She holds a dishtowel in one hand and a half-eaten banana in the other. There are water marks on the sides of her jeans, leading Fang to believe she was too lazy to actually put that dishtowel to good use.

"I- yeah." He agrees. She says no more, just kicks open the door with a single foot and tilts her head as if to say _Come on in_. He obliges, and shuts the door gently behind him.

He takes a moment to examine the girl, who's definitely his girlfriend's roommate. She doesn't look like the spawn of the devil, as Lissa so often describes her. In fact, she's probably prettier than Lissa with her natural blonde streaked hair and her high cheekbones. She's dressed down in a loose grey t-shirt, a black camisole beneath that, plain black ankle socks and a pair of short jean shorts. Hanging out of her waistband are a pair of arm-length fingerless black gloves. Her slender wrists are adorned with dozens of silver bangles. Compared to Lissa, she looks like she's the attractive without even trying type. Or maybe the total tomboy/badass type.

"I'm Max." She says, plunking down onto the beat up leather sofa and kicking her feet onto the coffee table. With the dishtowel she slaps the spot beside her in an invitation to sit down. He gives her a quizzical look.

"Lissa always takes forever to put on her make-up." She explains matter-of-factly. Fang decides this is as good a reason as any and plops down next to her.

"Fang." He says in response to the name Max gave him. Even her name works for her. She cocks her head a little and grins.

"Hey, nice name. It suits you." She takes a monstrous bite of her banana and manages to fit the entire half that's left into her mouth. She chews silently. The banana peel goes flying across the room and lands in the small trashcan by the entrance to the kitchen. "Doesn't sound like the kind of guy Lissa's interested in though. Sorry bud, better luck next door." She smiles again and pats him on the shoulder.

"What?" He asks, baffled. "Lissa's my girlfriend."

Max furrows her eyebrows. "So she broke up with Clark then?" She whistles. "Damn, she moves on fast. He was here for her just yesterday." Something is wrong with that, because Fang first asked Lissa out a year and three months ago.

Just then, right when Fang is about to reply, Lissa barges out of her room, long red hair swishing around her waist, low-cut tank clinging to her body.

"Clarrr- Fang!" She exclaims, trying to hide the name hanging halfway out her mouth. Fang stares at her incredulously. "I thought our date was tomorrow!"

He shakes his head in disgust. "We're done." Lissa falls over herself, bawling and rubbing her runny make-up from her face.

"I'll just go see Clark then." She sobs and runs out the door.

Fang glares at the floor. "I'd better go." He says. Max has other ideas, and grabs his wrist.

"Oh, no. Talk to Momma. Tell me all your emotions and spill all your secrets. I haven't gorged myself on anybody's heartbreak lately." She pats her stomach and then the spot he was sitting in before Lissa came in. He has to appreciate her twisted sense of humor, but no way is going bother her with his brooding.

"I shouldn't intrude on whatever you were doing." He says, backing towards the door. Max laughs and points at the pile of dirty dishes sitting next to the sink.

"Sit."

Maybe ten minutes wouldn't hurt.

**A/N: Not my best work, but hey. I like it. Topic is nice and simple. Please review.**


	2. II: Friday Night Football

**II. Friday Night Football**

**Status: Classmates**

It's raining tonight, cooling down the hot Texas air. It's Friday night football, practically a Texan ritual, and it's pouring down buckets, which means that only a fourth of the stands are filled. And out of that one fourth, about 98% of they're wearing multi-colored ponchos.

On the field, a marching band plays the ever so popular Seventy Six Trombones. A squad of cheerleaders sways their hips and throws in the occasional flip of high kick to keep the teenage guys' attention firmly on them.

Fang sits alone on the very edge of the bleachers, in the very back row. Here the shadows are like a shield, and he hopes that maybe Lissa won't be able to hunt him down if he keeps his head bowed and he turns away and keeps the hood of his black rain coat tugged firmly down over his face. The only other person back here is a girl dressed kind of similar to him, in dark colors, with dark blue bootcut jeans and a black pullover hoodie and grey hi-tops. She notices him looking over at her and slides down the bench.

"Hiding from somebody?" She asks casually. He recognizes her. Everybody calls her the school loser, probably because she's an orphan and sucks at anything academic, even though she's probably the best athlete Windsor High has. Fang thought she was too, until she came and smiled at him and he noticed just how pretty and level-headed she is. He remembers that her name is Max, and she's an orphan (_duh_) like him, although unlike him, she's known for her violent tendencies when some big bully thinks it's a good idea to pick on her.

He can't tell if he's scared of her or intrigued by her take-what-you-can-get attitude and her easy smile.

"Lissa." He points down the bleachers at the head cheerleader on the field, who's scanning the crowd for one boy dressed in black.

"Sucks to be you dude." She says with a sympathetic grin. Lissa, the school's resident bitch, is a topic people like to discuss over coffee, alcohol, ice cream dates, you name it. Fang groans.

"Thanks. I'm Fang." He holds out his hand for a handshake. She looks at his hand and kicks his shoe, which is balanced on the edge of the bench in front of them.

"Yeah, I know. We went to elementary school together." Huh. Did they?

Max must notice the sudden lapse in Fang's sarcastic and funny personality. "Not a lot of people remember me."

…

"Watch out! It's slippery!" She cries. He smiles a little and kicks her back, guilt gone, because the gesture is so friendly and stupid he has to retaliate, and Max isn't bothered by the fact that she's not memorable. Rainwater sloshes up onto the hems of her blue jeans, soaks her shoes and drenches her socks, but she beams at him anyways.

"Well, then it's nice to finally remember you Max." He says, nudging her a little with his shoulder. She nudges him back and smiles somewhat.

"Yes, because every girl their first conversation is going to stick when the guy is preoccupied hiding from his crazy ex-girlfriend." Max remarks. It's true, Lissa and he used to go out, hold hands in the hallways, cuddle up in the movie theater and share a tub of jumbo popcorn. Actually, until she went all rabid and possessive, Lissa was the kind of girl he would want to marry. And then she finished puberty and got seriously beautiful and she changed.

"She's looking for me you know." He admonishes. "Not you. Why aren't you down near the front?"

"I'm keeping your sorry butt company. Be glad I'm here." She retorts easily, ponytail swishing when she turns her head to focus on the halftime show.

Oh, he is.

**A/N: I don't like it, but maybe you guys do. Well, I like the plot. Just not the content. Maybe I'll edit it later or something. PLEASE REVIEW!**


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